Only OK

Thien Hau pagoda in Saigon's Chinatown.

To see more photos from our trip, click here or on any of the pictures in this post.

Day two of our Saigon getaway started with a trip to Cholon, the city’s historic Chinatown. The first stop was a Chinese-style temple, the Thien Hau pagoda. It was lovely–thick with incense smoke and the occasional clang of a temple bell. The interior roof lines were decorated with thousands of heavenly figures, and of course there were plenty of blinking bling-bling lights and plastic offerings.

Back outside in the smog and hum of traffic, we made our way through the growling  Cholon streets to another temple (despite the girls’ protests), the Phuoc An Hoi Quan pagoda, an even more serene spot drenched in incense. Rubbing the statue of the horse of Quan Cong is supposed to help those on a journey, so Fiona gave her a pat and rang the bell on her bridle. We hung out in the temple for a while, savoring the quiet respite.

Standing room only at the Dam Sen water park

Back outside it was broiling, and we needed lunch. Unfortunately, just about every place was closed for the holiday, so we spent nearly an hour walking through the busy streets with nothing to show for it but a little fruit and some cold banh my. The girls were starting to rebel, too. Everyone was in a pissy mood.

While I waited for the girls to catch up I took a photo of a nice-looking Catholic church and looked it up in the guidebook. Turns out it had its place in history. Cha Tam church was where South Vietnamese president Ngo Dinh Diem fled during the coup of 1963. He was found there, however, taken into custody by military officials, and shot to death. Seems many corners of Saigon are steeped in history.

We tried to catch a taxi to our next destination, the Dam Sen water park. The taxi driver, his car emblazoned with “Happy Taxi” on the side, wanted to charge us 300 dong to go just a few kilometers. I told him to piss off and we all piled out of the taxi. “That wasn’t a very happy taxi,” said Fiona in her usually perceptive way. We finally found a taxi willing to use the meter.

When we arrived at the water park, we were greeted by the site of about ten thousand motorcycles parked outside. Remember, this was the national independence day holiday. Inside, it was complete and utter madness. Forty thousand or so of Saigon’s hot and noisy youth were all out for a swim. You could barely walk. The pools were literally standing room only. The music thumped, the children peed, and the masses ate sausages on sticks. None of us were happy. I said “let’s get out of here,” and no one, not even the girls, argued.

Going colonial: at the Majestic Hotel pool, where population density was a bit more to our liking.

What transpired next was inspired, but not exactly in the spirit of the people’s independent Socialist Republic of Vietnam. We went colonial. As in the Majestic Hotel, built in 1925, during the years of French oppression. Where the pool costs you $8 admission a person if you don’t have a room. We forked over our money and found ourselves alone–blissfully alone in a small, but very wet and cool pool. So what if the ice cream, cafe sua da and cocktails were four bucks a pop? Solitude at that moment was priceless.

After a calming swim and drinks, that evening we went for a delicious Vietnamese meal at Huong Lai, which is run as a nonprofit providing disadvantaged kids with training in the restaurant industry. So I felt a little better. The food was great, especially the thien ly flower buds sauteed in garlic and the melt-in-your-mouth spareribs. After dinner we went for a walk–a lot of families were out waiting for the holiday fireworks. But we were tired, so we dragged ourselves to the hotel and heard the boom boom boom from inside.

Happy Birthday to Vietnam and its 88 million citizens.